“..Time with you was perfect, never boring, never wasted, you were always the same - intense and beautiful, amazing. I would look at you as we sat in places, when I was away from you, I would stare at you picture endlessly. Something you never got a chance to find out, something you'll never know, one fact - I would've done anything for you, knowing, that it all could be used against me. I know what happens when you do it even a little - I have the scars. For you, I would've pulled sunlight from thin air, and lifted the curses from your life. I loved you so. It's tragic at this point. It's like an ongoing funeral. You're out there somewhere. And sometimes I feel myself dying slow, knowing that you're alive somewhere, and somebody else's smelling your hair, touching your neck. You know how those barbed and clawed nights can pass, they rip the meat right off your back, send you to the corner and leave you with enough of your senses to realize that you’ll live to see another hammering night alone...”
How is it that is such a miniscule amount of time we can become so overwhelmingly fascinated with another human being?
I look into her eyes, and see such wisdom, I can see thousands of thoughts swirling about, but at the same time, I see a hint of sadness. For who? For what? The fact that she can be so knowledgeable, so confident, but at the same time seem so vulnerable. I want to know why, but I don’t know how to get close to her. Is this the curse of my life? Every time I want to get close to someone, I either shut down or end up sorting through the wreckage after the fact. I’ve had plenty of time in the last few weeks to rethink my life, what I want, what I need. I keep feeling this sense of urgency, that time is running out and I will finish my life alone, not being able to share what I have to give. Events of this last weekend didn’t help matters any when a gentleman who at age 60 is already nearing the end, and having him tell me it was an amazing thing to be able to do what I wanted to do with life before it was too late.
The emotions blindside me when I think about how there are people around me, that in another time and place, are of an age that could have been my own children. It’s a sobering reminder of what could have been, but then makes me wonder if it is something that will ever be. I find myself trying to look over them, act like a mentor or father figure, but then I’m left with an empty feeling when I see the incompleteness of my existence. Why does this happen to me when I’m in such a transitional state in my life?! I feel young and old at the same time, what a paradox. I feel young and alive because I’m starting over, doing something new, doing what I want to do with my life. Then I feel old again, when I see all these people in relationships, or see friends with children who are now grown up…… I feel like it is too late for me, and I find myself more often feeling like I will end this life alone. This thought shakes me to the core. The she comes along.
We come from such different worlds, and in the course of everyday life we may have never met, but it happened. What frightens me is where I go from here, I am at a loss, I can’t stop thinking about those eyes. They look right through me, and I see sorrow, wonder, and a sense of longing, for what I have no clue. I know that what I feel isn’t necessarily for her, or about her, but of an ideal. I see the things I want in life, I am challenged to think differently, but then that panic sets in of being too late. Too late….
I’m torn, having convinced myself that these are things I did not want, but then having an overpowering moment of recognition that yes, I desire what I told myself wasn’t important, what would only hinder me….. But I was wrong. New beginnings can alter your perception; make you realize what you had suppressed for all these years. Is this just another fleeting moment and within a few more weeks it will pass? Maybe, I don’t have the foresight to give myself the answers. Why, of all places, do I spend so much time soul-searching while in the forest? Why can’t I rationalize and think these things through in my everyday life?
In a few weeks, I’ll probably forget all about this, but in this place and time it consumes me.